


Left In The Dark

by expelliarmustard



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Betrayal, End of the marauders, Established Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, First War with Voldemort, Halloween, Heartbreak, Loss, Marauders, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Marauders Friendship (Harry Potter), October1981, Remus Lupin Needs a Hug, Sad Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:40:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27886129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/expelliarmustard/pseuds/expelliarmustard
Summary: On the 31st of October, 1981, Remus Lupin receives a letter.This is the night of it all from Remus' point of view, depicting his initial reaction after hearing of the murder of James, Lily and Peter, and the arrest of Sirius.
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black & Remus Lupin & Peter Pettigrew & James Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Kudos: 7





	Left In The Dark

“Remus, dear, would you let the owl in?” Hope Lupin calls from the kitchen sink, where she and Lyall stand together washing dishes, the vacant, quiet splashes from their movements being the only sound that floated through the thatched, dingy cottage.  
He stands up from the table, floorboards creaking in complaint, the musical shadows from the candlelight dancing across his face as he unlatches the window and a flaxen-feathered owl with dark, shining eyes lands on the windowsill. Remus smiles at it weakly, as it chirps in greeting and sticks out its leg. The owl flies off in a flashy flutter of wings, unhesitantly into the depths of the night outside after Remus removes the letter. He didn’t recognise the owl, so he travels back to the table with cautious curiosity. He sits down, breath hitching faintly at his name etched on the front, written in the elegant scrawl he knows to belong to Dumbledore. The noise of his parents busying themselves in the kitchen faded to a faraway buzz in his ears as he hesitated, something withering deep inside of him at the prospect of what the letter could be. Why has Dumbledore written to him? And so late?  
He exhales loudly and slips his fingers underneath the fold of the envelope to prise it open, trying to emotionally smother the wave of cold, icy anxiety that was starting to trickle down his spine like ink.  
He unfolds the paper.  
His eyes rake over the words.  
Remus Lupin cannot breathe.  
He read it again and again and again. With each deafening thunder of his heart, the contents of the wretched letter hammer into his brain.  
Thump.  
James and Lily have been murdered.  
Thump.  
Peter - blasted to fucking pieces.  
Thump.  
Sirius... Sirius…  
Remus is scarcely conscious of the grip on his shoulders and the questioning voices echoing in his paralysed mind, from whom he can only assume were his parents. Nothing was registering, he can’t remember them arriving at his side, only - only - only -  
He gags. As his knuckles grow bone-white from griping the letter tightly with both hands, forearms braced against the tabletop, he thinks vaguely about how he has never felt this sick before.  
Remus rises with such abruptness it extinguishes several candles. Three strides and he’s at the door. Another and he stands outside underneath the star-smattered sky, his breathing coming in shallow, quavery gasps.  
As he sets his eyes onto the dark in front of him, he starts to sprint. Arms flailing, reaching out for someone when there is no one, he runs to nowhere. His lungs scream for air, but he can’t care less for that pain; for pain so pointless, so trivial, in contrast to the devastation that was closing down on him like thunderclouds.  
It's not long before his body gives out and the cold night air finally reaches his burning lungs. His grip on the letter falls weak and it slips from his fingers. Remus stares straight ahead, not really seeing, as it drifts towards the ground. The street he stands in he doesn’t recognise. But squinting through slurred vision, he sees that he is alone; surroundings consisting of measly streetlights and rolling country hills on either side that quickly fade into the thick, black night. 

It seems as though the world is spinning away from beneath his feet. He turns around, then turns again, as the gravity of the truth starts to reach his bones. They are gone, and they aren’t coming back. The streetlights flicker, almost like they are teasing him with their meek, optimistic yellow glow. It is silent; not a whisper of a breeze, not a scatter of a leaf, not a breath that isn’t his. His chest heaves. His eyes prickle. His fingertips are cold as spikes of ice.  
Something simmers just below the surface of his skin. As his body becomes too heavy, he collapses onto his knees, the specks of gravel piercing weakly into his jeans as he slams onto the concrete. Devastation and disgust surge through the tangled wiring of his brain like bolts of electricity. He turns his chin to the night sky, eyes squeezing close in suffering, curling his hands into fists. He doesn't think. He just screams. He screams a noise with everything he has left. All the shattered pieces inside him heave together to produce a scream that curdled the air and shattered the shield of silence that laced the night.  
Pain roils in his veins, his hands reach up to grab at his hair, wrenching as he almost seems to try to throw himself out of this reality. He is drowning, trapped so far under his all-consuming grief, that he can’t find a breath of air that isn’t poisoned with the truth. 

James. One to believe in him, a father, his best friend, a man with the heart of a lion, greater than any other, is literally dead. He was the one who always fought with such vicious loyalty for those he loved, never doubting their allegiance in return, and is now merely a body, still and cold. A face unblinking, unlaughing, and no doubt etched with the expression of someone who died with hope behind the fear that his wife and son still might stand a chance. "NO!" He screams again.  
Lily. His first friend, a mother, a woman with a mind of power and a heart of uncommon kindness, is no longer with him - with anyone. To her, everyone was equal and worthy, and she never failed to see the best in people. Lily, who fought with her heart on her sleeve, is now lying still, her heart slowly suffocating in the blood that it no longer pumps. Like a puppet with snapped strings.  
"NO!" Remus cries out into the night. Peter. a breath of a different kind of air, always looked to make someone smile even at his own expense, a man of relentless generosity, is gone too. The man who never got a chance to properly believe in himself, who could always offer a new perspective, now shredded to ribbons.  
"No!" This time he chokes on his tears, now looking down at the ground, disbelief swimming before his eyes. His tears halt, and his face freezes in its agony, as he finally thinks of Sirius. Sirius. Sirius. His love, his other half, who would relentlessly torture him with those smiles in their school years that lived in Remus’ sweetest memories, he's... he's...  
He's a face of snarky remarks, always full joyous laughter and always had crows feet in the corners of his eyes, always alight with life... He's killed them all.  
The man who fights for Remus when he struggles himself, who rose ferociously to any battle, has finally sunk down to his name. A black. A spy. A murderer of futures, of souls, and of friendships and love that they all once thought could withstand a war so nuclear is wiped out every being except them. And afterwards, they would stand and cheer. But now only one of them stands. No, he sits, he cowers, and his senses fade away in the middle of a dark country road, in the middle of a country, in the middle of a world that beats with three fewer hearts, and one gone rotten.  
At this point, he can barely think or speak, tears statue on his cheeks. He wants back his scream, wants back his feelings, but he looks into the darkness and finds it looks the same as what's inside him. Remus Lupin is so  
mother  
fucking  
alone.


End file.
